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Knights of Myth Drannor
The Knights of Myth Drannor adventuring company came to prominence as the rulers of Shadowdale with their successful defiance of Zhentil Keep. They were also instrumental in the defeat of Lashan of Scardale. History The Knights began in Espar as a nameless band of youths who had grown up together. One of the their number, Florin Falconhand, rescued Azoun of Cormyr from an assassination attempt. In gratitude, Azoun granted a charter to them allowing them to bear arms. This royal assent included a strong recommendation that the party explore and clean out the Haunted Halls, a bandit hold north of the village of Eveningstar. As with almost any beginning group, the Knights had within their ranks members who were uncooperative and attempted to slay or steal from their fellows. Two such Knights, fighters Agannor Wildsilver and Bey Freemantle, met with swift brutal ends. During their adventures, the party discovered a curious feature common to many ancient ruins in the Realms: permanent gates linking distant locations to each other. One such gate took them to the city of Waterdeep where they met with Khelben Arunsun. Recognizing a golden opportunity to cause the Zhentarim a setback, he gave Florin Falconhand the pendant and the title of lord of Shadowdale to claim if he could. The party traversed the Stonelands to Shadowdale, where they took possession of the monster-infested Tower of Ashaba. It would take them time, but when they finally secured the tower, they discovered enough treasure to rebuild the Tower and discover its chilling secret—the Tower was built not by human hands but that of the drow to guard the entrances to the Underdark. Florin declined the lordship of Shadowdale and Doust Sulwood was chosen from within the ranks of the Knights. The Knights would find themselves in various battles with Zhentil Keep, local giants, a beholder allied with the Zhentarim, and The Hand. Zhentil Keep also sent an army agaist the dale to support a false claim on the lordship from Lyran Nanther of Melvaunt. The Knights prevailed with the help of the militia, the elves and Harpers against ten times their number. The Knights made a lightning attack on Voonlar, a village up the road, where they razed and plundered the temple of Bane, taking 400 prisoners including drow and Zhentarim. The Knights led a second successful attack on the drow in the caverns below the dale. While the Knights were recovering from their venture, Lashan of Scardale started invading the surrounding dales, conquering Harrowdale and Featherdale, followed by Battledale and Tasseldale, also attacking Mistledale, before anyone could mobilize their forces. Cormyr annexed Tilverton and Sembia and rushed its forces north to protect Deepingdale to prevent Lashan from turning south. Shadowdale, the elves, the Harpers and the druidic circles rushed to help bolster Mistledale, and they held Lashan back. Lashan's empire crumbled as he was attacked from all sides. The departing elves invited the Knights to enter Myth Drannor. Upon the departure of Aumark Kithyl to take the throne of Ruathym, Khelben sent a young Waterdhavian cavalier, Mourngrym Amcathra, to replace him. When Doust relinquished his title, Mourngrym was named Lord of Shadowdale. While in Myth Drannor the Knights found a deck of many things and Doust amazingly survived the drawing of a death card. Soon after Mielikki appeared to Florin, commanding him to marry Dove Falconhand. In the Spring of 1357 DR, the adventurers left to explore the Realms, leaving the defense of Shadowdale to Mourngrym, Elminster and their army. They spent most the following year exploring the northern Sword Coast, the western edge of Anauroch, Westgate, and Cormyr. Along the way they met with Alustriel of Silverymoon, the wandering Simbul of Aglarond and lost Jelde and then Doust and Islif to retirement. Instead of returning to Shadowdale, the Knights made their way to Myth Drannor hoping to establish it as their own stronghold.To their surprise they found hordes of devils infesting the ruins. The party retired to Essembra and there welcomed Rathan Thentraver of Tymora and Torm into their ranks. There they formally declared themselves the Knights of Myth Drannor. Having renounced their official positions in Shadowdale, they remain "lords" and "ladies" of the dale respected by all the dalesfolk. Current Knights * Florin Falconhand * Dove Falconhand * Jhessail Silvertree * Merith Strongbow * Lanseril Snowmantle * Illistyl Eleventree * Torm (adventurer) * Rathan Thentraver * Sharantyr * Mourngrym Amcathra * Shaerl Rowanmantle Lore Early on in our time in Shadowdale, a Harper brought word to Storm Silverhand of an old Cormyrean noblewoman disappearing during a shopping visit to Hillsfar, and of the increasingly frantic attempts of her relatives to uncover her fate or whereabouts. Maalthiir’s clerks and envoys met the most direct queries with sly demands for funds to “help them conduct searches.” This noblewoman, Bethra Battlebar, had been a Harper spy in her younger days, and remained a font of knowledge concerning private mercantile alliances among traders in Cormyr, Sembia, and Hillsfar (and attempts by Zhentil Keep and by various Thayan interests to infiltrate these), so her fate was also of interest to the Harpers. Storm told Florin of this matter, and he agreed to go and try to find and bring back Bethra. Unbeknownst to him, he was being used by the Harpers as a decoy, to rampage around Hillsfar drawing Maalthiir’s interest whilst more experienced Harpers did the real snooping. Florin was wise enough to know that his activities as the envoy of Shadowdale had made him more than a little well-known in the northern Dales and vicinity, so he hit upon the plan of using magical disguises on himself and the rest of us Knights, so we could ‘take over’ as caravan guards for a caravan running up through Shadowdale to Hillsfar. Jhaele Silvermane agreed to aid in the switch, knowing of a caravan master, one Lorthan Mendlen of Elturel, whose guards were giving him troubles (he’d lost some veterans to death or wounds, had others ailing of various sicknesses, had some green replacements on his hands, and also had some replacements he frankly suspected of being spies for the Zhents and just waiting to betray him into disaster). When Lorthan’s run from Amn reached Suzail, he lost two of his best guards in a suspicious knife-fight, and was forced to continue with two more possibly-unreliable replacements. He called in a favour and managed to find out when the next Court messenger was riding out to the the Cormyrean trade-agent in Mistledale (this was in the days before that unfortunate diplomat was murdered by the Zhents), and offered to provide the man with the escort of a caravan, so that the bodyguard the Court would have to find could be much reduced. This scheme worked: if any of Lorthan’s men were planning to betray the caravan to bandits or worse, they did nothing under the watchful eye of riders who were almost certainly retired veteran Purple Dragons drawing triple pension pay for bodyguard duty. Lorthan knew who in Mistledale could get word to Alok, and ensure that a caravan picking its way up the narrow Ashabenford-bank trail through the woods from Mistledale to Shadowdale would have an elven escort that would keep forest marauders of all sorts at bay—elves who’d show themselves once or twice, to keep potential traitors among Lorthan’s men honest, too. So it was that Lorthan reached the Old Skull Inn safely, Jhaele spiked some wine and ale, and one group of caravan guards were spirited away to a certain farm at the north end of Shadowdale for rest, healing, and a covert watch over them by Harpers to see who tried to steal away and make contact with someone, and who didn’t. An identical group of replacements (us) took over for the run through Voonlar (some tense moments there) and Yulash, to Hillsfar -- where the real fun began. It seems that some of the merchants Bethra Battlebar had been gathering information on had become aware of her scrutiny, and decided to butcher the old lady. Wiser heads had remembered that she might be worth quite a ransom to her kin, and in the meantime could be pumped for all the other information she might know (especially about trade rivals). So she must be kept hidden but very much alive. Sharp-witted old Bethra commenced to invent plausible but false information about all sorts of things and feed it to her captors -- but soon became aware that someone was magically sliding into her mind, to try to ‘listen in.’ She suspected it might be Maalthiir himself, and adjusted her revelations accordingly, trying to make her captors seem dangerous in his eyes and also trying to exaggerate the interest of various Sembians in being Maalthiir’s foe and eventual downfall. Maalthiir soon sent some agents to take custody of her, but other interests covertly moving into the city (from Calaunt, Mulmaster, Thay, and Zhentil Keep), who had wizards of their own, were able to frustrate Maalthiir’s forces -- and a deadly cat-and-mouse game began. We, of course, crashed right into the middle of it, and were initially thought by everyone involved to be slayers hired by one of the other parties involved. So we got clobbered from all sides, with Harpers coming out of the woodwork all over Hillsfar trying to keep us alive so we’d continue to be the diversion they needed, while they tried to track down and rescue old Bethra before Maalthiir himself could. Our stay in Hillsfar became one long running battle, and I think we’d have perished the moment exhaustion claimed us if it hadn’t been for a little hidey-gem that Dove had given Florin, that provided us with an extra-dimensional safehold to retreat into for rest, spell-studying, and the like: at a cost of our life-forces (it drained anyone staying in it of hit points, more the longer their tarrying). Lorthan didn’t understand anything of what was really going on, of course (though he knew quite well who we were), and he called in another favour trying to help us. This consisted of rousing an old adventuring companion and onetime lover of his out of retirement to help us: a fat, sour, ugly-as-an-old-boot mage named Natharra Haedlun, who just wanted to be left alone to shuffle around her shop farting and smoking a gigantic pipe, and paint twee little pictures of large-eyed kittens and dancing miniature dragons to sell to anyone interested. Natharra happened to be a more powerful mage than Maalthiir and several of the wizards ranged against him combined, and handed them all their scorched-robe behinds whilst keeping her own identity entirely concealed from them. From then on, she retreated from the fray but kept magical watch over us. Not to help us, but to watch us as her daily entertainment as we scrambled to stay alive and find Bethra. SHE located Bethra right away, of course, and left a nice little trap waiting for Maalthiir so that whenever he tried to sidle back into Bethra’s mind, or snuff it out, he got a backlash that left him senseless for the better part of a day. Some of the Harpers eventually found Bethra and tried to rescue her. Unfortunately, she thought they were a new batch of nastier kidnappers, and did them much harm -- enough to allow some of the Zhents to find her, and do battle with said Harpers. We hadn’t found Bethra or these Harpers, but we had tracked down a few of the Zhents, and as they converged across the city to vanquish the Harpers and take Bethra, we converged with them. Wily old Lorthan wasn’t done helping us, however. He managed to get hold of a middling-rank Red Plume commander of some sort and point out all of this rapid and violent convergence -- and convince the man that Hillsfar was under attack. So in the space of a few short hornblasts we had the Red Plumes converging, too! Florin muttered something about it would be much appreciated for once if Elminster bampfed in to stage a sardonic rescue, about now, and this apparently made Natharra almost choke with laughter. She DID choke, a few breaths later, when a Zhent tried to put a blade through Bethra and she, yes, turned into Elminster on the spot, and promptly blasted more than a few of the Zhents and Red Plumes back across the city. Then the Old Mage grinned at us, announced that he’d just whisked Bethra Battlebar back to her mansion in Cormyr and taken her place, wished us a pleasant adventure -- and vanished into thin air! We Knights, of course, were left in the heart of Hillsfar, with an apoplectic Maalthiir hurling orders and murderous forces right and left, the Red Plumes riding in from all directions looking for folks to kill, various Zhents and sinister forces of Calaunt and Mulmaster and the Watching Gods alone knew who else trying to slay us, and a few Harpers (holding a by-then-wounded Lorthan) giving us dark looks and muttering about our less than subtle tactics as they gathered around us. It was Torm who thought of the sewers, of course. It was Jhessail who promised to pull every last one of his body hairs out by the roots, eventually, if she had to submerge herself entirely in human sewage and swim to safety -- and it was Islif who had the satisfaction of drowning two Zhentarim wizards in said sewage during our frantic flight. The Harpers saved us all by knowing how to get to a gate (portal) that whisked us into the backwoods of Turmish. We never did find out who’d made that gate, or why, because our precipitous arrival in that distant country landed us right in the heart of another lot of adventures, beginning with this: Suspicious farmer of Turmish, with pitchfork in hand: “Come out of there, all of you -- and come out crawling! Who by Beshaba the Bitchlass are you, anyway?” Torm (entirely covered with stinking excrement, except for his eyes and a wide, cheesy “you’re not gonna believe this, are you?” grin): “We’re devout followers of Ilmater, doing our Dung Penance, sir! A great magic worked by our temple has transported us here, at your mercy -- and, uh, where IS here, anyway?” Farmer: “Expect me to believe that, horse-thieves?” Jhessail (spitting shit): “I don’t give a flying left nipple what you believe, old man -- but if you don’t take that fork away and let me climb into yon pond and wash, right away, I’ll make you believe we’re all mightly-pissed-off archmages who can blast you clear across the Vilhon in an instant -- and I’ll make you believe it the HARD way!” Farmer: “Oh, well, lass -- why didn’t ye just SAY so? Pond, sure, there she be . . . uh, can ye really make yer left nipple fly?” (THAT, of course, was the line Torm recalled for Jhessail’s benefit, farmer’s hopeful accent and all, many times during the year that followed, until she finally crafted an illusion spell, complete with spurting blood as the bodily feature in question apparently tore free of the rest of her that fooled him into thinking she’d done just that. She chose to do it while he was eating, of course -- and was it her fault that he’d just drunk a very fine jack of firewine, and was startled into returning most of it to Faerûn, via his nose?) A portal in the ruins of the Halls of the Beast-Tamers in Myth Drannor whisked us to a certain l-o-o-o-ng hallway on the ‘first’ level of Undermountain. With collective hearty bad feelings about our unintended trip into unfamiliar subterranean unpleasantness strong in our minds, we encountered a Harper of our acquaintance running full-tilt towards us, ward-spell after ward-spell shattering at her heels. She cried out a warning to us, and Jhessail cast a spell The Simbul had given her in payment for timely aid, that twisted the Harper’s last remaining ward into a spell-reflection magic, hurling whatever magic was sent against it back at the source. The ward promptly vanished in a crackling of energies as the expected attack-spell struck it, the Harper seized the moments she’d been given to teleport away -- and the reflected spell slammed into its caster with a satisfactory Undermountain-shaking blast. Whereupon that caster chuckled, and I knew we were in REAL trouble. Had Dove not been with us, to call on her sisters for aid and bring both Laeral and Alustriel onto the scene, Halaster would very probably have transformed the fabled Knights into smears of blood on the passage walls in the space of a few breaths. As it was, he gleefully attacked three of the Seven Sisters instead, and most of us were stunned senseless in a trice, as Dove slashed herself and used the leaking silver fire to spin a protective cage around us, keeping spells out and the passage ceiling from falling -- and Laeral and Alustriel traded ‘anything you can blast I can blast louder’ magics with the Mad Mage of Undermountain. Now, readers of Ed’s novels (wherein he was encouraged to play up the magic-heavy aspect of the Realms) may think titanic spell-battles happen all the time in Realms sessions. Not so. Silken threats do, yes, but intrigue rules our Realmsplay hours far more than swordplay or spell-hurling. This was an exception . . . and for days afterwards, all of us but Dove suffered from the tingling side-effects of the magical ‘sidewash:’ our bodies kept trying to ‘slip’ into other shapes, hues, and sizes. Most unsettling, and cost my character much dignity and even more ruined clothing. Our return engagement with Halaster was a chance meeting in Skullport, wherein he beamed at the sight of us (recognizing us in an instant from the battle years before) and teleported us individually into various perils, in hopes of luring Elminster to our aid so he could ‘have it out’ with the Old Mage. El responded by teleporting a succession of monsters he’d trapped and spellbound over the years right back at Halaster, interrupting the Mad Mage’s fun and forcing him to defend himself. We fled like screaming children, which El pronounced our wisest collective act in years. We haven’t been back to Skullport since. Three envoys to the Tower of Ashaba: 1. Merchant coster from Hillsfar wants free land to establish waystables with warehousing (walled compound), pointing out employment and tax income Shadowdale will get; Maalthiir intends to use it for spying, of course, subverting local youths and oldsters with drugs (but doesn't know one of his envoys is a Zhent agent). 2. Envoy from the Church of Torm (sent from the temple in Tantras), asking for free dale land and perpetual immunity from taxes, in return for establishing a large temple on the granted land, and agreeing to provide therein shelter (with granaries), arms, and training in vigilance and war to all folk of Shadowdale, and establishing temple patrols to watch for attacking forces approaching Shadowdale. Will further offer to provide caravans with armed escorts from Shadowdale to next settlement on every route, if Mourngrym seems unwilling. 3. Envoy from the Crown of Cormyr to Mourngrym, asking permission to establish an official trade factor (agent) of Cormyr in the dale (office and residence), entirely at Cormyr's own expense (staffed in part by War Wizards; envoys also War Wizards). Legitimate offer, but trading office would also become local spying base for Cormyr; envoys making same offer to Mistledale at same time. Lanseril seeking senior druid dwelling somewhere nigh Semberholme, for guidance, training, and to share information about spreading monsters. Individual merchants coming to town to buy some of the empty cottages of folk killed in the last Zhent attack, and establish themselves away from the feuds and expense of Sembia; are really sponsored spies of ambitious Sembian merchants seeking to establish way-caches for drugs, stolen goods, and kidnapped rivals well outside Sembia yet within reach of Sembia. One of these (Imbur Taerazalan) works for the Gemfingers merchant cabal of Ordulin, who intend to covertly conquer the Dales one by one, establishing their own "shadow territories" that can be "sold off" to Sembia (surrendered to become officially part of Sembia, in return for large cash payments). Jhessail trying to decipher the coded pages of the Dark Tome without Elminster discovering she has it (assisted by Islif and the Harper mage Aundas War Wizard spy, who are trying to keep her alive; some of the runes are magical traps, others are gates to strongholds all across the Realms, now disused and dangerous monster- and undead-roamed "dungeons"). The cabal of local Shadowdale merchants running the mill (since the Knights uncovered and slew the Zhent agents who formerly ran it) have begun to die, one after another, under mysterious circumstances. The Knights are trying to protect them and discover who's doing the killings. The Zhents, of course, but: by means of magic from afar? Agents hidden in Shadowdale or years ago among the folk of Shadowdale, attacking the merchants by stealth, when they can catch one alone? Or is one of the cabal of merchants doing the killings? yes! If so, just to gain control of the mill himself, or become the senior and dominant member if Mounrgrym "appoints" replacement merchants? no Or is the killer an undercover Zhent agent? yes The mysterious "noble lady of Tethyr" who's just arrived in town with large entourage and tried to rent the disused farm north of Fox Ridge for "a tenday of relaxation" (and came to Mourngrym's attention because of her steward's attempts to arrange this accommodation, and so got invited to evenfeast at the Tower so he could give her the once-over) isn't a noble lady of Tethyr at all, but rather a noblewoman of Waterdeep AND a former flame of Mourngrym's, sent here by her parents to learn if Mourngrym is the Amcathra who knows where the best friend of his youth lady's oldest brother hid the family magic before he died (he died in Mourngrym's arms, while off on an "adventure"). She'll try to seduce Mourngrym, and if she likes it in Shadowdale, ride the situation for all she's worth, sending the information she gains back to her kin via her steward. The visiting dancer Florin sought to seduce so as to get alone to (with Jhessail's help) mind-ream, thinking her a Zhent agent, who turned out instead to be a doppelganger or some other sort of tentacled shapechanger (ere she got away), has openly returned to the dale with her troupe. But is this the "real" dancer, having nothing to do with the shapechanger? yes Or the shapechanger back again, for a rematch? the shapechanger has already returned to Shadowdale as short-coin farmworker, and is watching the Knights from afar, awaiting the right chance to slay and impersonate a Tower guard. Shapechanger is an agent for Tharltan, the wizard of Saerloon who wants to take over Shadowdale, and has orders to slay and impersonate Mourngrym, and then begin manipulating the Knights, singly, into situations where they can be killed. This "real" dancer is a spy for a Witch of Rashemen, and will flee the Knights in a suspicious manner (fearing they'll discover her secret), perhaps leading them into the clutches of the Fang. The Fang of six assassins who always work together are lurking in Shadowdale, posing as painters and roofers (slate shingles; they do good work, are pricing themselves very cheaply, and so are winning work up and down the dale roads, fixing too-long-neglected cottages) as they await a good chance to fulfill their commission from Rauthur of the Cult of the Dragon to kill Florin Falconhand. all magically protected against farscrying and thought-reading. One of them will ask audience with Mourngrym, boldly trying to get a commission to work on the Tower of Ashaba - - really to see as much as he can of its layout, even if work offer rejected. Will try to befriend chambermaids, just to try to get an eventual 'in' at the Tower. Jonczer of Scardale will make another appeal to Shadowdale to use the Knights to establish regular 'swift and silent' trade runs between the two dales. He wants to have a way to spirit his wealth out of the dale without trying to carry it himself, to have a reason for entry into the Tower of Ashaba, and (eventually) to frame the Knights for the murders he's going to try to accomplish, to weaken all outlander agents in Scardale except the Zhents. Phaerlarra old Tower maidservant, suggested by Jhaele when the Knights first arrived will make another play for Doust, hinting that she's of noble birth (the Troehands are actually descended from two bastard royal heirs who married commoners, though a female Huntsilver did marry into the family much later) and her "family secrets" could enrich all of the Knights, if they learn everything. She knows she really has nothing to offer, but the royal connection (though not its precise nature) has always been a deep family secret, and she'd love to somehow get the Knights to track down the truth. Why can't they see her true worth? Merith's investments in Sembia are turning sour - - and someone is trying to trace him through them! He'll get the second "bad news" note this week, from a Harper telling him it was found after Dathjathra was found murdered, and her murderer was interrupted (but managed to escape) while busily copying out all of her missives! Who's trying to track down elves investing in Sembian trade, and why? Jhessail's tracing spell will find just one thing out of all that was stolen from Jhaele's office: stashed in a hollow tree at the east end of Fox Ridge is a single sheet of her parchment, rolled into a bone tube and with fresh writing on it (Jhaele's stolen ink, but very recent writing - - and the ink and quills are gone, along with everything else, carried far beyond the range of Jhessail's spell, well out of the dale), listing sixteen villagers Mirrorman list". Why are these Dalefolk listed (what's the link between them)? Who wrote the list, and why was it stashed in the tree? Who was intended to find and presumably act on it, and why? Questions for the Knights to ponder... Descriptions What follows is the heart of the Knights, but a little less than a third of its membership, down the years. Absence of information about faiths and about the children of the Knights is at Ed's request, for both the reasons he gave (set forth above). I've done what Ed did with the Seven Sisters, listing people by the form of name they're most widely known by, and omitting titles, middle names, and all of that. Florin Falconhand: A tall, handsome, square-jawed charismatic hero of a man. Looks like a king, is ordinarily 'forceful but quiet' of manner, and half the women of the Dales swoon at the thought of him. Grows angry rather than fearful when faced with doom. True nobility of character, being far kinder and more understanding than he's ever had need to be. Favoured of the goddess Mielikki, who practically ordered his marriage to Dove, deeming it "needful." Our war-leader and envoy. Typical saying: "We must do what is right -- and be very sure as to what 'right' is." Dove Falconhand: Speaks little, cares little for looks or pretty words. Very close to her husband Florin in character. Often says, "Gently," which is short for: "Gently, carefully -- do it right, once, rather than thrice badly." Absent for long periods raising the child she bore Florin, and never hurls her status as a Chosen of Mystra at any of her fellow Knights. Typical saying when among us: "And so?" Doust Sulwood: Retired from the Knights, a priest now resident in Cormyr. Quiet, reluctant to make decisions, a little aloof, far-sighted. A reluctant former Lord of Shadowdale. Never really the leader among us, but for a long time the central figure who tossed converse, decision-making, and center stage skillfully from Knight to Knight, binding us in friendship. Typical saying: "Let us see more." Jelde Asturien ('Semoor Wolftooth'): Also retired from the Knights to Cormyr, and a priest (the second listed name was his own, his better-known one the naming he chose when confirmed in his faith) of sharp, sarcastic tongue. A cynic and pessimist who was all too seldom wrong in his judgements. Wooed Jhessail with little success, and was always ready for a fight or an adventure. Typical saying: "Colour me unsurprised. As usual." Islif Lurelake: A strong, lusty warrior-woman of few words -- also now retired from the Knights to Cormyr, and married to Doust. Usually visits Shadowdale once every spring, and leads local (Eveningstar) patrols of the verges of the Stonelands. No-nonsense, given to deadpan black humour or none (visible) at all. Slow to anger, tends to be amused by insults. Typical saying: "My sword speaks for me." Jhessail Silvertree: A gentle, affectionate, merry-spirited wizardess of large-eyed, almost elfin beauty. Longtime beloved and then bride of Merith, hardened into stern and motherly manners by her adventures and motherhood (she and Merith have a child). Subtly (and reluctantly) became the central 'heart' of the Knights as Doust withdrew. Typical saying: "Sunrise, sunfall, and as inevitably, here we go again!" Illistyl: The impish longtime apprentice of Jhessail and sometime lover of Torm, Illistyl is good-natured but has a waspish tongue. Loves adventure, has a swift temper and 'spirit,' and has remained petite and rough-and-tumble agile as she's matured. Once nicknamed (by Jelde) 'the Dare-me Girl,' because she so seldom refused his dares, and in doing so impressed him repeatedly. Typical saying: "Really? Deeds, not words: impress these eyes!" Merith Strongbow: A quiet, darkly handsome elf whose looks have smitten scores of human ladies (including some fellow Knights). Kind and good-natured, he usually hides an impish sense of humour -- but not too deeply. A battlefield strategist (whereas Florin is our war-leader). From time to time, affects a mustache. Capable of devastating mimicry, and has dressed up and acted as a female to lure foes with no shred of embarrassment. Typical saying (spoken with heavy irony): "I see." This is short for: "I see all too well." Lanseril Snowmantle: Casually flippant, sees all and REMEMBERS all, and so has a head as stuffed as any sage. Casual of dress and courtesy, but empathic enough never to be unwittingly rude. Like most druids, happier alone in the wilds than indoors or in crowds -- and spends much time off cleansing the Border Forest of Zhent depredations and damage (his pet project). Always appears calm. Typical sayings are innocent-sounding derisions like: "And your sword just fell out of its scabbard and into him, is that it? Enlighten us all, as far as your own enlightenment crawls with you." Mourngrym Amcathra: Of the Amcathra noble clan of Waterdeep and a little awed when he joined the Knights, Mourngrym has retired from us to be Lord of Shadowdale, and is growing daily in commanding airs and confidence. Always darkly handsome and eloquent, highly educated and trained in all courtly graces (singing -- which he's lousy at -- dancing, writing, oration, fashion sense, all the rest), Mourngrym is revealing a dry sense of humour and far more determination than he had in our collective shadows, as a Knight. Now married to Shaerl Rowanmantle (a noblewoman of Cormyrean birth and Lady of Shadowdale), Mourngrym has a son and is settling down to becoming a stern, just ruler. From time to time, he regards our freedom to go adventuring with open envy. Typical saying: "Justice demands no less." Torm: The always-flippant, say-anything, deliberately outrageous thief of the Knights, agile and quick-witted. Also rude, impulsive, and pranksome. Close friends with Rathan, whom he teases mercilessly. Almost as much of a scourge of the ladies as he thinks he is. Delights in swindles of those not his friends, and even more in outwitting everyone. Is notorious throughout the Dragonreach lands, and many folk would love to see his comeuppance -- and even more would like it to be brutal. Typical saying: "Who, me? But of course." Rathan: A jovial, apt-to-adopt-a-false-crustiness priest who loves his flagons and is best friends with Torm, whose constant teasing he tolerates good-naturedly (occasionally getting even). Has a fierce sense of what's right and just, but is otherwise very understanding of different creeds, views, and values. Believes that those who join the Zhentarim, Cult of the Dragon, or Red Wizards place themselves outside the bounds of deserving fair treatment. Comfortable with commoners, deeply dislikes the airs and assumptions of the wealthy and nobility. Typical saying: "I perceive less than agreement in thee." Sharantyr: A shapely, sleek, hot-tempered ranger governed by personal loyalties to her friends above all else. Is hopelessly in love with, but also in awe of, Florin (after all, the man is personally favoured by Mielikki!), and is deeply grateful that the Knights trust her enough to let her fare forth often to adventure on her own. Has a sly sense of humour and isn't above using her beauty to get her own way. Restlessly searching for her own destiny or 'proper place' in the Realms. Except when angered, her converse is often a series of gentle challenges. Typical saying: "Care to be a whit more honest with me?" Category:Adventuring companies